She takes her frustration out on the surrounding forest by screaming at the top of her lungs. “God-damn it, what the hell is next?” She regrets it immediately when fresh pain shoots through her forehead.
Climbing up the ditch embankment comes next. Her boots slip on the incline, forcing her to make several attempts at clawing through the brush until she finds enough handholds in nearby bushes to pull herself up. Her breathing is heavy from exertion by the time she finally arrives back up at the dark road. Without the benefit of moonlight or even crappy car headlights, it is eerily black, yet oddly serene. The sound of the naughty deer who’d caused this whole turn of events draws her attention as the buck prances off into the forest as if nothing had happened. She’s relieved she at least doesn’t need to add the guilt of killing the deer to her already depressing evening.
Hallie takes a moment to brush off as much snow as possible, before heading off in the direction of Corbin’s Bend. The going is slow through the deep snow and she wishes another car would come along so she could try to hitch a ride, but she’s not hopeful this late at night. As the adrenaline rush of her crash wears off, she becomes more aware of the ache in her ankle.
It has to be twenty minutes before she gets to an opening in the trees large enough to see the lights of town again. She can no longer feel her toes by the time she reaches the sign welcoming her to Corbin’s Bend. As luck would have it, the first thing she comes to is a huge park. She knows the kids of the town must have a blast on all of the playground equipment when the weather was more cooperative than at the present moment. Exhaustion threatens and Halle has to dig deep to keep her cold feet moving forward.
As late as it is, she’s relieved that at least a few houses still have lights on, giving her hope her aunt may still be up when she arrives. There is just enough dim light from a park light for her to check her aunt’s return address from last year’s Christmas card. When she arrives at the first street sign, it seems her eyes are playing tricks on her as she reads Spanking Loop. Who names a street Spanking Loop?
There is only one direction to turn, and that leads her directly into the wind. The lump on her head is pounding. She is shaking from head to toe, forcing herself to move forward. She can see street lights lining up in a row ahead of her, making it clear there are many blocks to walk ahead, not even sure if any of them will be her aunt’s street. Tears threaten as she realizes how precarious her position is. What is she supposed to do? Walk up and down the streets of the town, aimlessly walking through the snow until she finds her aunt’s street? If only her cell phone hadn’t died, she could Google the address.
As much as she hates it, she may just need to stop at one of the houses with lights on to ask for directions.
Traci appears in the open great room at the fifteen-minute mark on the dot. Troy had been watching the time, hoping he wasn’t going to have to go to her room to collect her. Now that he’s had a few minutes to calm down, he’s having second thoughts about if he’s doing the right thing in disciplining his sister. She is a grown woman, after all, and by anyone’s standard a very successful, independent woman at that.
In the end, he’s decided to proceed with her spanking for two fundamental reasons. First and foremost, she absolutely made major errors in judgment tonight, putting herself and others at risk. If endangering her personal safety doesn’t warrant a punishment, nothing else ever could.
Second, and more importantly, Troy is coming to the conclusion that Traci chose to live and practice in Corbin’s Bend for a very good reason. It’s clear she subscribes to the premise of the community. Troy suspects her uncharacteristic funk is, at least in part, due to her failure to find her own someone special to share the kind of intimate relationship with that she had witnessed in their parent’s marriage. Considering Troy has recently come to the same realization of what is missing in his own life, he thinks he has a pretty good idea of how the rest of the night needs to play out. While it may seem unsettling to find himself in the position of Traci’s disciplinarian, he knows she needs him to play the role of her (HoH). Dad would do it if he were here. Tonight, the responsibility falls to Troy.
Their eyes meet as Traci approaches tentatively. Her shoulder-length hair is still damp, fresh out of the shower. He stifles a smile when he realizes she’s wearing a floor-length, heavy flannel gown. He suspects she’s trying to put as much padding as possible between her tush and the dreaded hairbrush.
Troy is sitting at the eat-in kitchen island. As she nears, he can see so many emotions as they parade across his sister’s face. Guilt and embarrassment are there, but the emotion Troy hates to see the most is her fear. He needs to wipe the fear away and pronto. Troy stands and crosses to meet her, wrapping her in a big bear hug. A stifled sob escapes his sister as she clings to him for support.
“I really am so sorry, Troy. I don’t know what came over me. Now that the alcohol is wearing off, I can hardly believe I was so stupid.”
Hugging her tight, Troy reassures her. “It sure as hell isn’t like you at all, at least not the Traci I know. That’s why I know something is really wrong.” Pulling back so he can see her eyes, Troy presses his sister for answers. “What’s this really about, Trace? I’ve noticed the last few months you seem to be in a bit of a funk.”
The answer flashed in her eyes so fast, and then was gone. She’s good at hiding her emotions. Troy knows even if she won’t open up tonight, he needs to get her to talk about what’s wrong at some point this weekend.
The continued silence is deafening. They need to stop stalling. Taking his sister by the hand and reaching for the backless barstool with his other hand, Troy moves to the center of the open space, putting the high chair front and center. Understanding his plan, Traci tugs at his hand in a failed attempt to move away. “It’s time, Traci. Let’s get this over with. I want you to lean over the stool and hold onto the lowest rung.” Troy pulls her forward and helps her move into the embarrassing position he’s sure she hadn’t planned on at the start of her evening.
The stool is the perfect height to rest her flat stomach against as she reaches for the wooden rung near the floor. Her toes are just able to touch the floor as her legs jut out away from the tall chair. He sees her grab onto the wood, hanging on for dear life. He hears her slight squeal when she feels her brother lifting the heavy flannel gown up and over her back, displaying her granny-style panties. He’s thankful she can’t see his smile at her veiled attempt at modesty.
Pushing aside the awkwardness of seeing his sister in such a precarious position, Troy moves to stand next to the stool. Taking a deep breath, he begins Traci’s warm-up spanking, delivering a steady stream of swats across her bottom.
Unpleasant memories of a similar night just over a year before surface, and Troy works to tamp them down. Tonight is about his sister, not Kathy. Spending time remembering what wasn’t meant to be is no use. He’d wasted enough time trying to make her and their relationship into something it wasn’t. More importantly, what it never could be. Kathy had made that abundantly clear the night of her first… and last… punishment at his hand. She probably still thinks he broke up with her because he liked spanking more than he loved her. An assumption which had proved to Troy she really had no clue what domestic discipline was really all about in the first place.
The warm-up is light, allowing brother and sister to each slip into this new familial dynamic. With each passing smack of his flat hand to her pantie-covered bottom, Troy’s resolve strengthens. Traci needs this. To absolve her of her guilt. To guide her to better choices next time. To keep her safe. The swats are coming faster… harder.
Without changing his delivery pace, he knows it’s time for the lecture. “All right, Traci. Why are you being punished tonight?”
Traci answers after the briefest of pauses. Her voice strained. “Because I was irresponsible. I put myself and others at risk by drinking and driving.”
“Very good. And what else?” He follows up his question with a flur
ry of harder swats to her sit spot.
“Ouch, Troy! That hurts!”
“Yep. That’s the point. Why else, Trace?”
It takes her longer to answer this one. Her voice so soft, he almost misses her surprising reply. “Because, I acted like a slut. I was lonely and hadn’t been out on a date in so long that I didn’t care who I met anymore.”
Troy is surprised at her candor, rewarding it with ten fast and furious heavy smacks. “You need to respect yourself and your body, young lady. You are important to me and to a lot of other people. It is completely unacceptable to put yourself in so much danger with a stranger who could have done anything to you had I not been here.” He keeps up the heavy pace as her breathing gets heavy as if she’s working hard not to burst out crying.
“Please. Troy. It won’t happen again. I promise. I was just lonely.”
Troy hears the sadness in her voice and it hurts him to know his sister has been in pain and he hadn’t been there for her. For a brief moment he questions if it’s fair to punish her for being sad, but the feeling is gone as quick as it came. She earned this punishment and more importantly, she needs this punishment. She needs the peace that will come after. The freedom of releasing her guilt. Without the punishment, she will just revert to punishing herself with self-doubt and loathing tomorrow in the light of day. No, better to put this to rest tonight before they go to bed so tomorrow they can try to have a fresh start.
The warm up is done. Leaving his sister draped over the stool, Troy walks to the kitchen island to retrieve their mother’s wooden hairbrush. As he picks it up, memories of his parents return. Knowing his father had used this exact implement to discipline his family many times over the years, each time to keep them safe and guide them, makes his job a bit easier.
‘If it was good enough for Dad, it’s good enough for me.’
Returning to the chastised spankee in the middle of the room, Troy can feel the tension pouring off her body as she awaits the next phase of her punishment. He takes a minute to touch the cool skin of her lower back, hoping to help her relax a bit. He had briefly considered continuing on her bare bottom, but he just can’t. It would be too weird.
The brush feels heavy in his right hand as he steps close enough to wrap his left hand across her back, helping to hold her tightly to him, preventing her from flailing.
His first strike of the flat side of the large brush is too tentative. He’s out of practice. Her squeak confirms his next strike is better… or worse depending on your point of view. He delivers the first dozen slaps with the brush slowly, spreading them evenly across her bottom, giving her time to adjust to the growing power behind each swing. Troy hesitates after the first dozen, long enough to take a cleansing breath for himself and allowing Traci’s soft cries to be heard in the otherwise quiet room.
Steeling himself, Troy begins in earnest. The punishment has truly begun as the strong smacks of wood come fast, yet methodical. Three hard swats to one spot. Three hard swats a few inches away. Again and again, Troy pelts her ass until every inch of her lower cheeks have been walloped a good one.
Her sit spots are next. Moving the brush lower, he keeps his fast pace, alternating back and forth until he hears his sister start sobbing. As he’d suspected might happen, she’s let go of the stool’s lower wrung and is trying to push up and away. Troy uses his left arm to hold her in place.
“Traci, that’s enough. Stop your moving and put your hands back down. We aren’t done yet.”
“Oh, God. It’s too much. Pleassseee.”
Troy stops long enough to use both hands to guide her back into position. He knows the punishment must continue if he’s to ensure there is never a repeat of her performance tonight. Once he settles her, he resumes the next helping of spanking with a side of lecture.
“Tell me again, why are you being punished, Traci?”
When she doesn’t answer, he delivers a fast volley of a half dozen swats before stopping, waiting for her response. He patiently waits for her crying to diminish to demand her reply again. He’s surprised at the defiance that’s returned to her voice. “Because you’re being a big jerk, that’s why. I can’t believe you’re spanking me, Troy! I mean really spanking me. It hurts!”
Troy swoops in quick to squelch the attitude with both words and the unforgiving brush. “Damn straight it hurts. It’s supposed to. More importantly, you need it to hurt because the next time you get the bright idea to drink and drive or pick up strangers in a bar, I want you to remember this night and think twice, do you hear me?” He hasn’t let up one bit through his entire rant. If anything, he has bumped up the force he is using, and her sobs have returned. He wants her to learn her lesson. “Tell me, Trace. Do I have your attention now? Are you listening?”
“Yes! I’m listening. Please stop! I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Honey, you’re already good. You just made a couple bad choices is all. You are still the beautiful, intelligent sister that I love more than anyone else on this planet.”
“Troy, if you love me, you’ll stop. It’s too much!” She continues to struggle to free herself from his restraint.
Troy delivers a final dozen with the brush, before stopping. He throws the brush the few feet over to the love seat. To her credit, she stays in position as she lays there, vulnerably recovering. There’s one final important safety rule she’d broken tonight and he decides to add it to his lecture, hoping he can end the spanking.
“Okay, next topic. I tried to text you and phone you at least a half dozen times tonight. Why didn’t you answer me? If you had, you’d have known I was here waiting for you. If you had answered, you could have asked me to come get you so you didn’t have to drive. So many problems could have been solved. Where was your phone?”
Crickets.
“Trace?”
She doesn’t answer the question, but instead tries to wiggle away from him. “Can you move your arm so I can stand up now?”
“Watch your tone and no, you may not stand. I like you in this position so if I don’t like your answers, it will be easy to start round two.”
“Oh come on. You have to be kidding me.” When he continues to subdue her against the stool, she finally stops pressing up and answers with an attitude. “How was I supposed to know you would be calling me?”
“Well, for starters, have I ever not called you on your birthday?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Tell me. Where was your phone?”
“I left it in my car, okay? The battery was about dead anyway. I don’t have a car charger and I wanted to save what little battery I had for the drive home, but…”
“But, what?”
She is trying to stand up again, but he doesn’t allow it. Her precarious position obviously has not convinced her to check her sassy attitude. “It was dead when I got back out to my car. It didn’t matter anyway since Ronnie was following me home.”
“Let me get this straight. You were not only driving after drinking alcohol on snowy and icy roads, but you were doing it without a cell phone? For Christ’s sake, it’s like you’ve lost your ever-loving mind.”
“It was fine. I didn’t hurt anyone!”
“This time. Traci, you could have killed yourself. Scratch that, how would you feel if you had hurt someone else? I know you. You could never live with your guilt. It would ruin your life.”
“My life is already ruined. I’m a thirty year old spinster!”
He would smile more at her melodramatic over-reaction if he didn’t know how upset she was. He’d hoped the spanking would relieve her of her guilt, but he’d stopped too soon. “I’m sorry Traci, but we aren’t done yet. From now on, you need to have your cell phone with you when you’re out driving. No exceptions. Keep it charged and ready for emergencies.”
“Fine. I promise I’ll keep my phone with me, but seriously, Troy. I’m done.”
“That’s not how this works, and you know it. I can hear it in your voice. You haven’t lear
ned anything, except that you remembered just how much you didn’t like Mom’s brush. Well, I’m about to reintroduce you to how much you hate the belt.”
Her anguished sob confirms he is on the right track. “Oh please, not that. I promise it’ll never happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t after this lesson. Now stay in position.”
Troy releases her long enough to step back. He unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling up the sleeves several layers before reaching for the buckle of his two-inch wide leather belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the hoops of his trousers sends a visible shudder through Traci. Her crying is getting stronger at just the promise of the belt on her bottom. Doubling over the leather to fashion it into a sturdy strap, Troy measures the length and adjusts his stance to line up.
Troy takes a deep breath before proceeding. The crack of the leather whipping his sister’s backside startles him. There’s a loud clap followed by a split second of silence before Traci’s anguished cry confirms he’s getting through to her. Before he can lose his nerve, he delivers two more solid belt strappings, one above and one below the first stripe.
He recognizes she’s finally surrendering to her punishment. Her cries have changed, from angry disbelief to truly repentant wails of regret. For several long minutes, he continues with the final stage of her punishment at a slow and steady pace. Each slap of leather helping his sister to finally purge the guilt and anger she’d been carrying since her arrival home tonight.
His arm is pulled back, ready to deliver his final stroke when a loud bang crashes into the space followed by a gust of freezing cold air, carrying in snow. Before he can turn around to see the source of the commotion, Troy is tackled from behind. His first thought is Ronnie has returned, but he quickly dismisses that idea when he not only remains on his feet, but is able to carry the weight of the intruder easily on his back. Cold, wet, snow-covered jeans circle his waist from behind, legs hooking together in front, while one damp arm wraps around his neck as if to strangle him and a second arm begins punching him on his right shoulder.
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